


As we fade in the dark

by JemDoe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background characters - Freeform, F/M, Little Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JemDoe/pseuds/JemDoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They dance in the moonlight, for what might be the last time. (snippets during the last days of war)</p>
            </blockquote>





	As we fade in the dark

They dance in the moonlight, for what might be the last time. Tomorrow war is to come, and Daphne is unsure what the outcome of it may be. By this time tomorrow she might be dead, maybe Blaise will, maybe both will. Daphne is no seer to know.

They twirl, moonlight their sole companion - that and the slow music the radio produces -, and Daphne wonders, as slow as they are, if she should tell him that they aren’t two, they are three.

She is the black sheep of the family - always was, actually -, and this is just the final nail on the coffin. Daphne decides, as the music ends and he kisses her passionately, that she will tell Blaise tomorrow of her unplanned, unprepared pregnancy. He will find out, anyway, whatever the outcome might be.

The music ends and so does their dance. They go their separate ways - Blaise mentioning something about his “civic duty”, and Daphne is never truly sure of where he stands in this war. Still, she walks through the hall between shadows, trying to tame the mane of blonde hair she has, trying to look like a decent pureblood lady and absolutely sure she was failing.

Daphne entered the empty Common Room - always empty, nowadays - and went to her room, also empty save for Tracey, working on a Potions essay and mumbling to herself, clearly half asleep.

Daphne cleared her throat, closing the door behind her, and Tracey raised her head, a smear of ink in her left cheek. The girl simply looked.

“Did you tell him?”, Tracey asked, and Daphne shook her head. “Do you plan it? It’s gonna show, y’know.”

Daphne’s hand flew to her stomach, and she bit her lower lip.

“Tomorrow,”, she promises, walking slowly to her bed. “If we’re alive.”

Tracey huffs, and goes back to her essay. Daphne doesn’t bother changing clothes, slipping into bed and falling into restless sleep.

By this time tomorrow, Daphne refuses to be herded into the dungeons, telling Astoria goodbye - in case she doesn’t survive -, giving Blaise a longing look as he seems vicious.

She fights, throwing curses left and right and wondering if maybe the Hat wasn’t right, that she should’ve been a foolish Gryffindor instead because this? This is the most fun she’s ever had.

She throws a Cutting Curse and hits a Death Eater, and by Merlin, she hopes it’s her father. Daphne marches on, and on, and on, until a retreat is made and everyone congregates on the Great Hall, full of bodies. Astoria helps, with her medical knowledge, and Tracey comforts some kid. Daphne doesn’t has a clear path, nor a direction, but she finds Blaise anyway.

He misses a leg, and smiles painfully as she sits by his side. Pomfrey gives her an odd look, but says nothing.

“Seems like we can’t dance anymore,”, he told her, hissing when Pomfrey started the cauterizing proccess.

“It’s alright. I’ll just teach our kid how to dance,”, she sayd, and Blaise splutters. Pomfrey starts some rant about pregnancy and dueling, but she turns her off. “I’m sure you can watch and tell me how awful I am.”

He smiles, she smiles, and she can pretend life is good and no war is ending around them.


End file.
